


How the Girl Feels

by withthepilot



Series: Two Sides [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag Queen, Genderplay, Multi, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe was always closer to Zach than Chris, until she learned how the pair really first met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How the Girl Feels

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the Two Sides series.

She still recalls the moment she first knew that she and Zach were good friends. They were on set and she was busy watching Chris pretend to run from an invisible ice monster, bundled up in a ridiculously large parka and zigzagging around in a rush of fake snowflakes, face planting over and over into the ground. Zach sat down beside her, opening a can of Diet Coke and crossing his legs, taking in the scene.

"He's good at pratfalls," he commented. Zoe looked at Zach as he kept his eyes on Chris, sipping his soda. "He would have been a fantastic vaudevillian."

"Just a few decades too late," she replied. She pulled on the hem of her costume, trying to cover more of her thighs. Zach smiled and reached over to flick her ponytail.

"Whose accent do you think is hotter, Urban's or Bana's?"

She smirked, shrugging a shoulder. "Chris' German accent."

"Oh, my god. It's so _bad_ , isn't it? Oh, it's _so_ bad."

She liked the way he used emphasis on different words to say different things, even though he was essentially repeating himself. He was clever and enigmatic and loved to poke fun at his friends—exactly what she needed.

Chris, on the other hand, made her a little nervous, if only because he was so hyper-masculine. He smelled like the woods and undiscovered spices and had interesting acne scars that somehow looked rugged on his face, rather than unfortunate. No matter how friendly he was between takes, she couldn't quite look him in the eye when they spoke. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

One day, Zach approached her at craft services, where she was contemplating the merits of a midday sugar rush in the form of a chocolate macadamia nut cookie.

"He doesn't bite, you know. Unless you want him to." He bumped her hip with his own. "Eat that cookie, girl; you're skin and bones."

He walked away and she blinked after him, taking a bite of the cookie.

*

One night, they all found themselves at John's, drinking some kind of dessert wine he found tucked away in a cupboard somewhere, after they'd finished off the bottles of whatever they'd been drinking earlier. Maybe no one else noticed how close Zach and Chris sat next to each other on the loveseat, their knees brushing repeatedly, but Zoe did.

"How did you guys meet, anyway?" she asked, wiping a wine stain from her mouth with the back of her hand. Everyone was getting a little too sloppy for good manners. "If you already knew each other at the auditions."

They looked at each other, as if to confirm the answer before it was spoken.

"At a club," Zach answered.

"S&M?" Anton asked, mischief in his eyes. Chris snorted and gulped his wine.

"Yeah, I was the one in the leather mask," he said. "Zach was the one in handcuffs and chains, on his knees."

" _You_ were on your knees, bitch," Zach retorted, in a failed attempt to sound butch.

Zoe laughed because everyone else did, punctuating it with another glass of wine.

*

Chris showed up to the wrap party wearing glitter but he didn't seem to realize it. No one else really noticed either, but Zoe saw it, glinting at her in the light all the way from the other side of the room. There was a hint of it on his eyelids, a trace on his cheekbones. When he came over to greet her, his eyes looked strangely large and defined and it dawned on her that he was wearing eyeliner, too.

"Where did you get that?" she asked after he kissed her cheek hello.

"What? Oh, at the side bar," he said, holding up his small plate of hors d'oeuvres. "They have pigs in blankets. Zach thinks they're gross, but whatever; more for me."

"I meant...the makeup?" she asked, gesturing to her own face because hell, they sort of matched.

Chris seemed to stiffen in surprise for a moment, but then his face immediately shifted back to its easygoing smile, so quickly that Zoe wondered if she'd imagined the moment of hesitation. "Oh...shit, is there still glitter on my face? Man, Carlos was fooling around in the makeup trailer. Y'know, last day comes around and they get giddy and start breaking out the eyeliner and glitter sticks and shit."

Except that no one else had glitter or eyeliner on, and Chris hadn't been the only one on set that day. But Zoe just nodded and sipped at her pink cocktail.

"Carlos is a trip," she said.

"Gotta love him," Chris replied. He smiled so brightly that, just like old times, Zoe had to divert her eyes.

*

They were in Sydney when it started coming together. She found herself sitting down to a relatively quiet breakfast with John and Anton, drinking her tea while the others downed coffee and shoveled eggs into their mouths.

"I wish I had a coffee IV drip," John said, flipping through an Aussie newspaper some PA had given him. "Just shove it right into my vein."

"You should switch to tea," Zoe said. "It's easier on the stomach." She reached over and pulled out the crossword puzzle, with the entertainment section on the opposite page of the spread. John huffed at her, drawing back from the table with the rest of the paper.

"Um, rude? Maybe I wanted to do the puzzle."

Zoe grinned at him. "Two words for 'crybaby,' seven letters."

"John Cho," Anton helpfully supplied. John rolled his eyes.

"You two are worse than Zach and Chris, with your erudite mockery. Screw you both. I'm tired and I want my crossword puzzle."

"Isn't that Zach?" Anton asked, pointing at a small photo of their friend and colleague on the entertainment page. Zoe leaned close to read the small print. Gossip, nothing more, focused on _the reincarnation of Spock, in town to promote the franchise reboot, entertaining a mystery gal pal_. And sure enough, the photo featured not only Zach, but a glimpse of some woman with dark hair, turned away from the camera. They looked like they were laughing and unaware of the cameras, the shots blurred by the sheer curtains of his hotel room window.

But Zach, tucked away in his room with a girl? That was impossible. Granted, it looked like a mannish girl, but it was still impossible.

"Yeah, it is," Zoe said, shifting her attention to the crossword puzzle. "How stupid."

"Yeah," Anton agreed. He took a bite of a muffin. "I think he's fucking Chris, anyway."

"Well, sure," John said. "Chris is his bitch."

Zoe thought of Chris with his scars and his impressive build and his chiseled jaw and realized she'd never even _thought_ of it that way.

*

In the end, her curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know who the mystery girl was, wanted to be let in on the secret of the dark-haired gal pal. She deserved to know because she and Zach were good friends. But there were some things even good friends didn't share; for Zach, _By the way, I'm a closet heterosexual_ could have very well been one of those items.

She knocked on his door, clutching her pajamas in her arms. There was high-pitched laughter emanating from inside the room and then a thunking sound, like someone had miscalculated the distance to the door and rammed right into it. Then, more laughter. When the door did finally open, she was greeted by a broad woman with a dark bob haircut and a tight red dress, barely hanging onto a glass of white wine between her curled fingers. Zoe took a step back, feeling immediately overshadowed by the woman's presence before her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she started, and when she dared to glance up, she was startled by what she saw: the familiar patchwork of acne scars.

"Hey, baby," Chris slurred, like it was nothing that he was dressed in drag, leaning against the doorframe and slurping at his wine. His lips left a ragged red stain along the rim. "You wanna have a sleepover?" he purred.

"Chris!" Zach yelled, rushing over to the door and pulling the other man away. Zoe couldn't take her eyes off Chris as he stumbled toward the bed in a pair of high heels, the likes of which she would never attempt to pull off. Zach moved to block her view. He, too, was clearly intoxicated, but he blinked and widened his eyes in an attempt to appear more sober. "So, um," he started, giggling a bit, "you must be really confused."

"I'm..." Zoe moved away again, pointing toward her own room, down the hotel corridor. She laughed nervously and tried to smile. "I'm—I just wanted to see if you were up for a movie. I'm gonna head back to my room, though. So..."

"Okay, sure," Zach said. Then he leaned in and whispered: "We'll talk."

Zoe nodded, at a loss for words, and glanced toward Chris again, even as Zach smiled and stepped back from the door. She caught a glimpse of him pulling down the zipper of his dress, her eyes following its path until it reached its end at the small of his back, just as the door fell closed and shut her out with a click.

*

" _Tina_?" Zoe repeated, taking another sip of her margarita. "This is some next level shit; you know that, right?"

Zach nodded, picking at the nachos they'd ordered from the Mexican-themed hotel bar menu. He scooped some salsa onto a particularly cheesy chip. "I know. But I'm telling you, it's true. You can't make this shit up."

"So, you're saying he still does this often?"

"Not professionally. He didn't have to do it anymore once he started booking Lindsay Lohan-type flicks. That Disney stuff pays pretty well. And now, you know, it's all a thing of the past. But..." He shrugged, eating the chip and chewing slowly, licking the grease from his lips. "It's fun, once in a while."

Zoe frowned to herself. Sometimes being Zach's friend made her feel completely ignorant. And that wasn't right; she was from New York, damn it. She _knew_ things.

"But I don't understand," she whispered, squinting. "I thought you didn't like girls."

"I like _Chris_ dressed as a girl," Zach replied. He looked into the plate of congealed cheese and toppings. "It's sexy, the way the two sides play off each other...he's so masculine, so brawny and strong, that when he puts on that wig and that makeup, it's like...a fantasy come to life. I dunno. The dichotomy, it's just...irresistible."

"I guess that makes sense," she said lamely, extracting some cheese that possibly had a chip wedged underneath it somewhere. Zach looked at her then, smiling as he sipped his mojito through a tiny black straw.

"You've been looking at him a lot more since you found out. I've seen you. Staring at him like you're trying to picture it again."

"Have not," she mumbled, eating the cheese.

"Z, please; you think you're the only observant person around here?" He lifted an elegant eyebrow and leaned close, whispering in her ear. "I happen to know that he's interested if you are."

"What? But you two—"

"We're open," Zach said quickly, waving a hand. "Plus, what kind of a friend would I be if I denied you the Tina Experience?"

"We're friends," she said softly, looking at him seriously. Zach smiled and leaned in to kiss her lips, a bit slippery from the nacho grease. The faint tang of salsa lingered as he pulled away again.

"The best of."

Zoe bit her lip, smearing the salt along her glass with a delicate fingertip. "As long as that's settled," she finally said. Zach rolled his eyes fondly and sucked sour cream from his fingertips.

"I think you need another margarita."

"I think you might be right."

*

Chris—Tina—showed up at her hotel room two nights later, in that familiar dark bob, as well as a denim jacket and short skirt. His—her?—lips were painted in that bright cherry red color that Zoe remembered. He leaned one hand against the doorframe and cocked his hips, somehow balancing on his precariously high heels. As for Zoe, she was in a tank top and pajama pants, and soon as she saw him standing there, she rushed to grab a hoodie, pulling it on. He rolled his eyes.

"The point is that you take clothes _off_ ," he said, his voice a little softer and breathier than usual. "Not cover up."

"I wasn't expecting you," she tried, letting him in. Chris sashayed his way past her and she closed the door.

"Why not? I thought you and Zach made an arrangement."

He put a tote bag down on the bed and Zoe wondered exactly what was inside—a change of clothes? Handcuffs? Other paraphernalia? She folded her arms over her chest warily, eyeing him as he sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs, getting comfortable. He moved so fluidly in these clothes, in this persona. Not that his normal personality was ever awkward; this was simply a brand new side of Chris.

"What do I call you?" she asked tentatively.

"Tina. Or Chris. Whichever you prefer." He tucked one curled end of his bob back and licked his lips, though the red stain didn't fade at all. "We don't have to do anything, you know. Not if you don't want to."

Zoe nodded. She knew neither Chris nor Zach would force her to do things against her will. But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued. She moved to sit beside him on the bed, reaching up to touch the fake hair and run her fingertips along his clean-shaven jaw. Chris watched her the entire time, his oceanic eyes glittering at her, framed by thick lines of black kohl. Zach had been right; it was an unexpected look for Chris, a clash of wildly feminine markers with all that made him a true man's man. And yet, Zoe knew that if she let it, it could captivate her.

"You like this," she said quietly, not so much a question. Chris quirked a small, patient smile.

"Do you?"

She tilted her head, shrugging off her hoodie. "Will you just kiss me for a while?"

"Of course. Definitely."

Chris, Tina, whoever, wrapped his arms around her and lowered her back to the bed. As he bent to meet her mouth with his own, she kept her eyes firmly fixed on his the entire way down. The kiss was half-Chris, half-cosmetic: Tina.

In the morning, she woke to a vibrating phone and an empty bed. She listened to the waiting message on the sleepy walk to the bathroom.

"If you're going to court Tina, you should at least buy her something pretty," Zach said.

Zoe blinked and erased the message, looking up to see her own reflection in the mirror, sheet-rumpled and lipstick-stained.

*

She thought about flowers, but she ended up with a delicate silver chain instead, something that Chris could wear whether he was in costume or not. He opened the box with Tina's girlish daintiness, but it was Chris who fixed her with a gobsmacked expression.

"This is for me?" he asked. Zoe nodded. "Why?"

"Zach says I'm courting you," she said, splaying her fingers. He laughed and shook his head, not a hair on the bob moving out of place.

"You don't have to buy me gifts, Zoe. If you want things from me, then I want to give them to you."

She wasn't wearing pajamas tonight, but rather a flowy sundress that lifted up over her thighs like liquid when she tugged on the silk. "Then go on," she said, and Chris was on his knees before she could count to two, caressing her bare calves and nestling his nose against the soft cotton triangle between her legs. She cried out in surprise when he pulled down the fabric and tasted her properly, clutching his shoulders and spreading her bare feet along the carpet for a better position, until her knees buckled and he had to pause to lower her onto the floor. A moment to catch his breath and he was right back where he started, licking and teasing until the job was done, a soft gust of air from between his pursed lips bringing her to the edge a second time.

Then she let him move her to the bed.

*

"What's in the bag?" she asked. She nodded toward the mysterious tote that Chris brought every night that he visited her as Tina, the one that he still hadn't yet opened in her presence. "Clothes?"

"Lots of things," he answered. He checked his lipstick in his pocket mirror and then opened the bag, pulling out some lingerie, extra lube, condoms and a strap-on dildo. Zoe's eyes widened when she saw the last item and he laughed. "Not that I'm positive it's your thing. But Zach gave it to me, just in case."

"Right." She reached over to pick it up, examining it. "Can I try it on?"

"Like I would stop you."

In a few minutes she had the strap-on securely fastened, the cock jutting out from between her hips in a proud stance. Chris seemed to lose his breath at the sight of her and though her first instinct was to blush, there was a stronger yearning for command. A rush of power bolted through her bloodstream, electrifying her, and as Chris sat and stared, lush mouth hanging agape, she ached to fill that open space with her cock, herself.

"Tina, come here," she instructed, and Tina went to Zoe on her hands and knees. Her dark hair framed her face and Zoe nearly fell undone just by the way she couldn't stop licking her lips.

"Let me suck you," Tina whispered, and when Zoe nodded, she immediately took the long cock into her mouth, bobbing her head. Zoe sighed and stroked the curled ends of Tina's bob, rocking her hips to grind her clit against the inner nub of the apparatus.

" _Tina_ ," she moaned. Like this, Zoe could hardly keep her eyes off her. Tina gripped the hard silicone between her lips and tilted her chin up to provide Zoe with more agonizing friction and she moaned again, louder and needier. "I should fuck you," she murmured, thumbing Tina's earlobe, down to her quickened pulse. The answering groan was guttural and deep, a bit of Chris coming through the cracks.

"God, please. _Please_."

"Shh, honey."

Zoe guided Tina up from her knees and over to the bed, folding her over the edge and letting her rid herself of her underwear as Zoe returned to the tote bag for the lube. She watched as her slick fingers disappeared into Tina over and over, one at a time and then together, listened to her ragged breaths as she stretched her. The dildo was big and Zoe didn't want to hurt the poor girl, though soon enough she was begging, babbling and whispering anything to get what she desired.

"Please fuck me, Zoe... _fuck_ me, please; give me your big cock..."

Zoe pulled a condom on and rubbed the head against Tina's reddened hole, flushed a natural pink unlike the tint smeared all over her lips. She spread the girl's cheeks as she pushed into her, inching in slowly as far as she could go, until Tina's knuckles were white with exertion, clutching madly at the bedcovers. Zoe watched in fascination as Tina pushed a hand beneath her body to fist her cock and she lightly scratched her rounded, manicured nails down the pale backs of Tina's thighs, leaving more pink, more marks.

"Fuck me," Tina repeated, those gorgeous eyes reduced to shimmering blue slits under heavily lacquered lashes, "like I belong to you."

Zoe shuddered and began to move her hips, pressing Tina into the mattress. She did as the girl wanted and fucked her until she didn't know where she ended and Tina began; until all pretense and masquerading became a cloudy memory. Because it was exactly what she needed and exactly what Chris needed, and if Tina could do this for them, this incredible thing, then so be it—Zoe would fuck and scratch and kiss and thrust and burn until she had nothing left to give, until she was coming once, twice, a hundred bursts of dizzying heat all blended together to the tune of Tina crying out, succumbing to her fantasies, her basest desires.

*

She liked it, too, when Chris stayed over through the night. In the mornings, she could still see the shimmer of his eye shadow, the tint of his lipstick still clinging to his mouth. She liked the way he sometimes forgot to take his clip-on earrings off and wore them as he sat beside her in bed, eating eggs and bacon and toast. John and Anton told her more than once that they missed her at breakfast. She knew she ought to feel bad that she didn't miss them.

What did hurt was that one day soon, she'd have to return Tina to Zach because Zoe was merely borrowing her for moments like these, when she could skip washing the lipstick stains on her face in favor of staying in bed, curl her finger in the thin chain around his neck and kiss his shoulder when he sighed at her touch.

She ached for the in-between. The movement of his pronounced throat as he swallowed down the last of the orange juice, juxtaposed with the lush spray of eyelashes that fanned over his cheeks, dark with the remaining ink that hadn't rubbed off on the pillows during the night. The smear of liner at the corners of the eyes running into the start of a five o'clock shadow. A fallen pair of lace panties on the floor, stained with the musk of early desire, just before they slipped down trembling legs.

When it was quiet, like this, she could lie beside him and count those lashes until numbers stopped making sense, without any cause or instinct to look away. Like this—sun in strips across their bodies, lying in the wake of a costumed courtship—she didn't have to divert her eyes from Chris; for once, she could truly see him.


End file.
